


Deliverance

by Grade_A_Garbage



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dark Elves?, Dark Skinned Elves, Dictatorship, Evil Influence, F/M, Female Character of Color, Major Original Character(s), Maybe - Freeform, More characters to be added as the story progresses - Freeform, Probably a happy ending, Revolution, Scary situations, Slow Build, So many tags, Title Subject to Change, Violence, Work In Progress, badass female characters, i think, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grade_A_Garbage/pseuds/Grade_A_Garbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moririel never thought she would be in this situation. She never thought she would be leading a revolution. Then again, luck had never been on her side. She must escape her country and convince a people, who are entirely too stuffy, to help her gain freedom not only for herself, but for her people as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story on this site! Also my first work, ever, in the Tolkien fandom. I would love to have a co-author to help me write this monster. We could bounce ideas off of each other and just totally nerd out. Let me know if you're interested (or if you have ideas for other stories that you want help with).  
> Constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Moririel shivered as she ventured alone from the market. The road from the heart of the Elven city to the market was a long one. It followed the line of the shore for miles, with the ocean on one’s left side going to the market, and on the right coming from. The bag of dried fruits she had obtained for two seagulls was weighing heavily on her shoulder. Once again, the cold breeze from the ocean bit her skin under her cloak and once again, she shivered. Moririel could taste the salt from the mist that blew inland from the sea on her lips. She looked to the skies above and watched the angry, grey clouds roll overhead. Something is coming, this she knew. Something was going to change. She could feel it in her bones, the way her skin crawled when she thought about returning to her Kingdom. 

Her King had strayed from the path of their people, the elves. The elves of Lothlórien, Rivendell, and even Mirkwood could be counted on to fight against the dark forces. They would serve as a beacon in this time of looming darkness. Her people used to be able to claim the same, no longer, she feared, could the elves of Hithaerphen be counted on to fight against, or even resist, the pull of darkness. Her King has failed in staying in touch with Lady Galadriel or Lord Elrond. This worried her greatly. She felt that he was afraid to speak with them, maybe even ashamed. Her stoney face almost cracked into a smile at the thought. No, her King felt no shame, Moririel was not even sure if he felt anything except for greed and the desire for power. Another possibility could be that he did not want the Lady and the Lord to know of his wrong doings out of fear from an attack. Her heart leapt at the possibility. The war would be terrible, this she knew and dreaded, but the outcome would be glorious. The ones who were loyal to her King would fight alongside him and die alongside him. However, those who had a similar heart to her own, would side with the Lady and Lord. Elbereth, maybe even the ElvenKing would join the battle to free her people from the clutches of a despot. They would rebuild their government and dispel the darkness from their precious shores. The people of Hithaerphen would be once again restored to the former glory of the Second Age. 

“Moririel! Moririel! How long does it take an elf to visit the market?” Eluves, her best friend and fellow seamstress asked of her, effectively snapping her from her daydreams. 

“Díheno nin, mellon” she said calmly with a small smile on her dark lips. 

Eluves blinked her brown eyes at her friend, obviously unamused with Moririel’s antics. Eluves huffed before flicking her dark, thick hair over her shoulder. “All is forgiven mellon, come, let us return to the shop. We are completely overwhelmed with orders”.

“Orders?”

“For the King”. Moririel knew that this was no ordinary order for the King by the way Eluves’ mouth turned down at the word “King”. “Our Lord has requested the repairing of much armor”.

“Armor? We are no blacksmiths. What do ladies know of armor?” Secretly, a lot. Moririel almost laughed aloud at the thought. Ever since herself and Eluves were elflings they had been training together in archery and knife throwing. 

Eluves almost smiled at the question and nudged her friend in the ribs, “Respectable ladies know absolutely nothing of such manly conquests”.

“Respectable!” Moririel could no longer control her laughter. She doubled over and barked a loud, echoing laugh. Certainly not the laugh of any ‘proper’ woman, certainly not one of Hithaerphen. Her black hair fell into her face and her golden eyes leaked with tears of mirth, which proceeded their path down the brown skin of her chin and to the dirt path below. Eluves joined her friend in her fit of laughter until finally they both regained their composure.

Eluves sighed wistfully, “No one ever laughs anymore, mellon. The King’s malice fills their hearts with despair and dread”. They both continued on their path to their place of work. Eluves took the heavy bag of dried fruit from her friend’s shoulders. 

Moririel grinned in thanks at her friend and at the weight taken from her shoulders, “Ssssh mellon, the King’s spies will surely hear you speak ill of the King” she whispered. “I agree. Someone must do something about his wicked ways. I fear he has pledged his allegiance to the Dark Lord of Mordor. Armor you say… he must be planning something big. I can only hope that it is nothing that will destroy the already tattered reputation of the dark elves”. 

“Come, mellon. Let us make haste”. 

Both of the women hiked up their dresses and briskly walked back to their place of work. As soon as Moririel entered, she could see crates on crates filled with chest plates and vambraces awaiting repair and restoration. Most of the armor has been neglected, as the King does not answer calls for aid. Moririel sighed at her King’s absolute refusal to lend help to any of the peoples in this world, even their own kin. It is a sad thing, she thought, when we are barred from fighting with our kinsmen. 

She stretched up to the crate at the top of the pile and pulled it down to her level. She brought the crate to her worktable and started to sort through the materials. “The blacksmiths must be completely overrun for the King to send armor to the seamstresses for restoration and repair”.

“Aye. I feel the same as well.” Eluves lowered her voice to an almost indiscernible whisper, “Mellon, I wish to speak with you when we have the utmost privacy, for the subject is very sensitive”.

Ah, thought Moririel, she must want to speak ill of the King and his deeds. “Of course, we will speak later”. 

They continued their restoration well into the night. They had no fire nor hammers for metalsmithing, so they made do with polishing and repairing the worn leather of the vambraces. They worked for hours upon hours, but seemed to have made no progress due to the sheer amount of crates that they must work through.

Finally, after hours of work and after their fingers were bruised and blistering, the women put down their materials for the night. Eluves turned to her lifelong friend with an indiscernible look in her dark gaze. With an incline of her head that obviously meant, “follow me”, Eluves walked calmly out of the shop and into the night.

Moririel straightened her back and made to follow. They walked secretly in the night. The cold during the day was made worse by the absence of the sun. They followed the path to the market, which Moririel thought was a little strange, if Eluves wanted privacy, but Eluves made a sudden turn to the right. They walked and walked until they reached a line of trees and entered them. The forest felt strange, more so than usual. The trees seemed to reach for them with their gnarled branches that looked like old witch’s hands. The forest had been effected by the King’s dabbling in the dark forces as well, it seemed. Moririel breathed forcefully through her nose as she thought about how yet another part of her home had been destroyed by the snake she called King. 

She almost ran into Eluves as she suddenly stopped and Moririel was too caught up in her thoughts to notice. Eluves turned to her with a peculiar look on her face that was unfamiliar to Moririel. Fear? Determination? Perhaps a combination of both? “Surely, mellon, you have noticed the fallacies of our King as well?” Eluves did not wait for her response. “He is poisoning our people, Mori. Even now, they fade from his taint. He will not let those who have heard the calling of the sea leave, their desire to journey to Elvenhome is eating them alive. His dark deeds have even corrupted our beloved lands, surely you can feel that the forest is – “. Her voice had grown louder and more frantic at the end of her rant, and her eyes were filling with tears. She turned away and covered her face with her hands. Moririel was shocked when she heard small sobs escape her friend’s shaking form. Moririel made to comfort her, when she turned again. “Please, mellon, think over what I am about to ask of you before you come to a decision”. 

Moririel thought it time to intervene before Eluves worked herself up further. “Mellon, please, calm yourself. Say what you need to say with no fear nor panic, for you are in trustworthy company. Come now, what is it you ask of me?”

Eluves turned from her friend yet again and took a deep breathe. “Go to Lord Elrond in Rivendell and tell him of the King’s treachery. Maybe he can intervene before it is too late”. 

Moririel’s mouth hung open in shock. Go to Lord Elrond? Commit Treason? If she were caught, the consequences would be dire. She would be tried for treason and found guilty, this she knew, because none had been declared innocent of any crime after the current King took the throne. After she was declared guilty, she would be tied to a post and burned alive, such was the consequence of any crime. Yes, the consequences were indeed dire. Perhaps dire was too soft a word, but the benefit would be great. Lord Elrond would help them, help her. He would help them reclaim their lands and vanquish the filth that contaminates it. Yes, the benefits far outweighs the consequences. She would go. While she had been thinking, Eluves watched her with wide eyes and baited breath. “Even though I could suffer the fire for this, I have thought it over and decided it wise. I will go to Rivendell”.  
Eluves sighed with visible relief. “A wise decision, mellon. Come we must leave at once”.

Moririel nodded and followed her pale-skinned friend back into the walls of Hithaerphen. Soon they were at the stables and Eluves was readying a horse for Moririel’s journey. For the sake of stealth, both girls proceed to walk back down the lonely road to the market, with the horse in tow. As soon as they were out of earshot of the city, Moririel mounted the horse and turned to her friend. “I love you like a sister, Eluves. Act with caution and stay safe. Stay alive”.

With that she rode off, barely able to hear Eluves when she said, “Good luck, mellon”.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here's the second chapter! I'm still looking for a co-author if anyone is interested! Read on!

Moririel’s heart screamed in her chest as her horse raced away from her home. The scenery around her seemed to blur by her because of her horse’s speed, however this did nothing to quell her fear, “Noro lim, mellon, noro lim”. She whispered to her horse. She whispered it like a prayer. 

Her heart was beating its way through her chest. Thumpthumpthump. In her blind fear, Moririel felt dizzy and she started to see spots where she should see trees. Her imagination was running wild, imagining the King’s men giving chase through the sick and twisted forest. The trees seemed to close in on her, reaching for her with atrophied and gnarled arms. A scream bubbled up in her chest, but the fear clogged in her throat choked it back. Tears started to pour from her eyes as she imagined fire licking at her limbs, sucking the life from her bones. 

She looked up and like a beggar searching for coin in the streets, searched for the end of her King’s territory. She would not be safe outside of his lands, but she would be safer than she is now. There, there it was, the light at the end of the tunnel. Sweet Ilúvatar, help me, she begged silently as she tried to out ride her fear and imagination. With a cry of relief, she passed through the trees and was suddenly out of her King’s territory. 

However, she could not slow; Eluves would have her hide if she did. The fear dissipated to a more manageable level and she breathed with a little more ease. She was no fool, however, and knew that she was in no less amount of danger, but the atmosphere was better. The trees looked more like trees and less like corrupted creatures, the shadows looked less like vindictive enemies vying for her head, and the air was easier to breath. A smile almost graced her lips at the change. If only her people could feel this! Could feel the air, see the trees, and taste the freedom! This is how elves are supposed to live, with freedom and light, not caged in like animals and frightened into blind obedience. 

She supposed it was time to think over what she would say to Lord Elrond when she reached Imladris. How should she even approach the subject? Just bust in to the courtyard and demand to see the Lord? Her lips twitched at the idea. No, no that would not do. She would have to stop by a near stream and freshen up. Perhaps she should start by telling Lord Elrond the crimes of her King. She could list them for him, very practical, or she could tell him personal accounts of the crimes committed against the designs of the Valar. Perhaps that would be too personal, and he would not take her seriously. Oh how she wished Eluves were with her, she would know how to approach the Lord! However, she had a long journey a head of her; she should not tax herself so about that just yet. Eluves would tell her that she must focus her energy on staying safe, from wild animals, orcs, and the elements themselves.

Moririel sucked in a quick breath; she did not know the first thing about surviving in the wild lands! She had no bow, no daggers, and no water skin. How foolish! Curses! She should have convinced Eluves of the need to prepare. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Moririel did not consider herself sensible. However, Eluves and Moririel were high on fear and desperation when the decision to flee to Rivendell was made. 

Well, Moririel thought, nothing ever gets done by fretting over it. She would just have to improvise, no matter how daunting and frightening such a prospect seemed. First things first, she would have to find a water source. It would do her people no good if she died of thirst before she ever reach Imladris. However, where should she start her search? Should she reenter the line of trees? Even though she had passed her King’s territory the prospect of being in the same forest as the one that bordered Hithaerphen gave Moririel shivers. She just might have to get over her fears. Besides, what are the odds of someone finding out her absence? She had only been a lowly seamstress, no one important, surely. Besides, if she knew Eluves, and she did, Eluves would have already hired another elleth. Perhaps one who resembled Moririel. Yes, Eluves would do just that, and no soldiers would give chase.

With these comforting thoughts running through her mind, Moririel once again entered the forest. As her horse sauntered through the trees, Mori strained her ears for any sign of a stream. Elvish hearing is much more keen than dwarvish or mannish. Then again, Elves seem to have much sharper senses than the other races. Not to say that the other races do not have their own advantages, because the certainly do. Dwarven craftsmanship is something to behold, and, in some cases, envy. Men seem to be better equipped to handle tragedy and grief. Their ability to bounce back from the most horrible of situations is to be admired. 

Ah, there, there it was! The bubbling of a stream! Mori felt relief course through her body, leaving her feeling light and giddy. So maybe she might survive this journey after all! With lightness in her heart, she turned her horse toward the sound. The first sighting of the bubbling stream was akin to looking into the face Ilúvatar himself. Mori did not know much about surviving in the wilds, but she knew that having a water source was of the utmost importance. 

She stopped her horse near the stream and dismounted. She ran to the edge of the water and cupped some into her hands to drink. She laughed at the sweet and clean taste. It must have gone to her head because the next thing she knew she had dunked her head under the water, then lifted herself out and began splashing herself and everything in her immediate vicinity. An annoyed whinny sounded to her left and she turned to see her horse glaring at her with one big brown eye. “Begging your pardon, my Lord”. The horse seemed to forgive her and turned back to drinking from the stream. 

Moririel stood up and turned to the bags attached to her horse. Might as well see what Eluves packed for her. She reached into one of the bags and cried out her faith to the Valar when her fingers brushed a sheath. A dagger! Blessed be to the Powers! Blessed be to Eluves! Never again would she tease Eluves for her impeccable state of dress and fear of bugs. Along with a dagger, she found an empty water skin and in the other bag she found yet another dagger and leaf wrapped lembas. Oh sweet mercy, she would have to hug Eluves to death when she saw her again. 

Moririel was more than thankful that Eluves had thought of her traveling needs before pleading with her to ride to Imladris. How could she have doubted her friend’s unwavering ability to plan and think with a clear head even in the direst of circumstances? Mori was ashamed that she had thought so little of her friend, but now her worries seemed that much more laughable. Perhaps she would survive this journey yet! 

With that thought, she strapped her twin daggers to her waist, filled her water skin, and dragged her horse away from the stream. She leaped onto his back with much more confidence. Now all that was left was for her to figure out her route to Rivendell. She pulled up a mental map. Right now, she was nearing the exit of Eryn Vorn. The abandoned forest of the Black Númenóreans. She remembered her King’s father attempting to protect their home. It is debatable whether he succeeded, depending on whom you ask. Mori would say that he was successful; her people would have lived in peace if not for his greedy and bloodthirsty son. After emerging from Eryn Vorn, she would turn east, and run into the Gwathló, or Greyflood, river. It was wise to keep near water, she supposed. She would follow the Gwathló north, which turned into the Bruinen, which would lead her straight to Imladris. 

With her path clear in her mind, Moririel rode on to her destination and destiny.


End file.
